


smile like you mean it

by skitzofreak



Series: spy games [1]
Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Competency Kink, F/M, Life as Rebel Spies, Training potential spies, alright actually its a staring contest with pretensions, alternate universe - somebody lives, cassian and jyn are competative, conversations without speaking, k2so is bored, lessons in self control, military bearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-13
Updated: 2018-04-13
Packaged: 2019-04-22 05:44:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14302059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skitzofreak/pseuds/skitzofreak
Summary: She tilts back her head, folds her arms (she’s so close that her forearms nearly brush his chest, and he can feel the warmth of her skin just barely through his shirt), and quirks the corner of her lips at him again.My turn.





	smile like you mean it

It’s a desperate move, unlikely to work, but Cassian is nothing if not desperate so he takes the chance. “The best training is experience, sir,” he says gravely, and then waits to see if the shot lands.

It doesn’t. “Nice try, Captain,” Chief of Alliance Intelligence Airen Cracken replies without looking up from the multi-platform integrated simulated battle playing out on the large central console in Command. Across from the Intel Chief, Captain Derlin and Operative Wudei both bend over the console controls, inputting new parameters to the imaginary battle. Cassian frowns as a squadron of X Wings vanish off the map in a series of tiny artificial explosions, and watches Derlin tug at his mustache despondently and mark down the tactical failure in his datapad. Privately, he wonders why Cracken even has those two working on this simulation, since their normal jobs when they aren’t in the field are to train the potential intelligence recruits. They are no more qualified for large scale tactical simulations than Cassian himself.

And yet, Cracken _has_ chosen them, which means they are not available for their regular duties, which means, to Cassian’s great irritation –

“You’d better hoof it, Captain,” Cracken says with a sidelong glance at Cassian. “Next class starts in 20 minutes.”

It would be undignified to protest. Also, technically, insubordination. Cassian clenches his teeth and debates it anyway, just for a moment.

A simulated cruiser explodes in a tiny puff of silent fire over the Command console, and Wudei gives a loud, warbled curse. “We overextended in sector Yellow Three Alpha,” Cracken barks, turning his back on Cassian and glowering at the simulation. “Apply data package four from Operation War Queen and run the last ten minutes again. Derlin, restate the package parameters you picked up on Omereth.”

Cassian swallows his sigh and stalks out of the Command center, Derlin’s tired voice chasing him out into the passageway as he drones about limiting factors and variables. Well, at least that explains Derlin and Wudei’s involvement – they must have run an op that provided Imperial battle tactics, and Cracken wants to test the intel in a simulator before passing it up to the strategists. That sort of thing can take hours, even _days_ if there is enough information. Any hope Cassian has that the regular instructors will be finished in time to take over the ‘class’ before he really has to put any effort in is crushed.

He glances at the giant chrono just next to Command’s exit as he leaves – it shows the current times on fifty-seven strategically important planets. The largest chrono on top usually synchs to whatever local space Home One is presently in, but they are speeding through hyperspace on their way to another safe harbor, so at the moment it is set up as Coruscant standard time as a default. He actually has less than fifteen minutes to make it all the way across the cruiser and about five decks down if he wants to start the next Potential Operative Evaluation and Training class on time. (Jyn had smirked when he first described the process to her. “P.O.E.T.? You call potential spies _poets?_ ” and then it had been about an hour of jokes about Cassian’s ‘poetry’ days, which had only gotten worse when she involved the rest of their team.)

(She laughs every time it’s brought up, now. Cassian finds that he doesn’t really mind the teasing.)

Showing up late will look sloppy and unprofessional, no matter how badly he doesn’t want to do this. Cassian adjusts the comm on his collar and keys in a specific number. “Kay,” he says briskly, “meet me in Briefing Room Zed-Green-Thirty-Eight in ten minutes, please.”

“Acknowledged,” Kay replies, and for a moment Cassian thinks he hears someone else’s voice muffled in the background of Kay’s comm, but he doesn’t have time to ask where his friend is or who is there with him. Instead, Cassian flips off the comm, makes sure his datapad is firmly clipped to his belt, and then he does as he is ordered, and hoofs it.

 

* * *

 

 

There are roughly twenty candidates in the Potentials class when he arrives into the training room, and Cassian stands discretely in the corridor outside and scans over their faces. They are all different species, ages, personality types – Intel has gathered this group together based on connections, aptitude, skills, and for today, at least, they are all Cassian’s responsibility. Cassian has pulled this duty once or twice before, and he…hasn’t hated it. It would be easier to deal with it, later, if he hated it. Easier when he doesn’t look at their faces – especially the young faces – and know that it is partially his influence that shapes their success - especially if they actually do make it through training and become Intelligence operatives.

He shakes his head, and rolls his shoulders. He’s not going to be their instructor long enough to judge their ultimate fates in the Intel division. He’s only here for today, just a place holder to make sure they aren’t left lying around untrained while the regular instructors play double duty in Command. Cassian would rather swap places with Derlin or Wudei, frankly; he has neither the aptitude nor the interest in being an instructor for potential spies.

There aren’t enough operatives for all the work they have to do, he reminds himself firmly. Everyone has to step up and cover the gaps as best they can. He pulls out his datapad, unclips his rank badge and stows it in his pocket, makes sure his breathing has evened out after his light jog across the cruiser, and walks into the room.

At first, the potentials don’t really pay attention to him. He doesn’t announced himself, or stride up to the front of the space to command their attention. He strolls in casually with his head bent over the datapad and leans against the wall next to the door. The nearest potential, a Human with one blue eye and one brown eye, leans back in their chair and cocks their head curiously, but Cassian merely gives them the bland, not-quite-connected smile of a commuter on the local public transit, and goes back to his datapad. Everything about the way he stands, the way he ignores the room, the way he occasionally glances at the door – all of it broadcasts to the potentials that he is waiting. Cassian is just a forerunner, he tells them with his body language and inattention, and the real deal will arrive in a few minutes.

Most of the potentials fall for it. Through his eyelashes, he can see them slowly turning back to their interrupted conversations, here an excitable Gand buzzing through his breathing mask to a young Human with bright green and orange hair, there a trio of identical Human brothers with square features watch the others with startlingly bright blue eyes. An older Selkath is slumped in their chair with their eyes closed and their hands folded on their chest, seemingly ignoring the low-key bustle of the other potentials – but Selkath have better smell than most species have vision, so it’s possible they are “watching” Cassian very closely. A few of the younger, more energetic candidates toss a soft cloth ball of some kind back and forth, casually dissing one another and laughing at their own jokes. It’s a quiet sort of chaos, waiting, impatient, restless.

Only the first candidate, the one with heterochromatic eyes, keeps their attention on Cassian. Cassian doesn’t look up, but he can feel the candidate watching him, toying idly with the ends of their black braids which hang long on the left side of their skull, though their hair is buzzed short on the right. He calls up their profile on his datapad: Silas Rue, twenty seven years old, native of Mygeeto. Rue doesn’t bother to hide their regard of Cassian, which is not a great sign in a potential spy, but they’re the only one in the room who doesn’t outright dismiss him. Cassian calls up and scans through the profiles for a couple more candidates that he plans to target first, and then finally decides he might as well get this over with. He tucks his datapad away and strolls up to Silas Rue, standing over the potential operative with his arms crossed and his face blank.

His change in position and posture gets the room’s attention more than his entrance had. Gradually, everyone goes silent, shuffling around in their chairs to look at him looming over Rue. The candidate shifts in their seat and looks back up at him, mismatched eyes steady. But Rue’s hands are slowly curling on their lap, and their jaw tightens the longer Cassian stands there, looking down impassively.

One of the other potentials giggles suddenly, a nervous sound that is probably meant to break up the riding tension but just serves to underscore it. Cassian doesn’t look up, but the giggler is one of the profiles he looked up a moment ago. Tripp Hebsley - seventeen, Corellian, absurdly colored hair, but marked by her first commander as friendly and good with people. Probably being measured up as a potential recruiter herself. Cassian doesn’t look over at her, though; he keeps his gaze on Rue, and waits.

A minute passes, then two. The potentials are shifting in their seats, and then they start to whisper, the soft buzz of the Gand woven around the murmuring of Aqualish and a few other Human languages. Cassian just manages to suppress a small start when one of the triplets whispers something in Festian – no, not Festian, Vuchellian. Vuchelle, like Fest, had long ago been part of the ancient Alderaanian Coalition, in the days before the Old Republic when Alderaan’s own empire had stretched across several systems and left their stamp on so many planets (in the days when Alderaan existed, but that was a thought Cassian was quick to shut down and lock away). The Vuchellians spoke a more nasal version of Alderaanian, and though Cassian could pick out the gist of the triplets’ quiet conversation, there were gaps in his understanding, words he didn’t know. He shut it out, keeping his focus on Rue. The candidate was doing significantly better than he expected, actually.

It took almost three whole minutes before Rue finally broke, clearing their throat and asking in a pleasant alto voice, “Can I help you?”

Cassian doesn’t move, doesn’t react, just watches Rue like he’s a spectator at a mildly interesting public show. The candidate tries hard to maintain eye contact, their chin up bravely, but Cassian is relentless in his indifferent attention. Slowly he watches the discomfort spread across Rue’s face and down their posture; the candidate’s shoulders curve into a hunch, their jaw tightens, their eyes flick restlessly to the rest of the silent crowd as if looking for support. “Are you the instructor?” Rue tries after a moment, brazening it out.

Silence.

“Do you understand Basic?” the candidate mutters, and a faint laugh sweeps around the room, then dies in the face of Cassian's non-reaction. Rue considers their own question for a moment, then asks in halting Aderaanian, “ _Do you…understanding…this words?_ ”

Cassian counts to ten in his head, and then abruptly drops his arms and walks to the front of the room as if absolutely nothing at all has happened. He stands with his hands behind his back and his posture neat and controlled, and surveys the potentials. Aside from Rue, who is attempting to mask their relief with polite attention, they are all staring at him with the faint nerves of the newly recruited – even, he’s a little pleased to note, some of the older, experienced soldiers who have been with the Alliance for awhile.

Something moves in his peripheral vision, and Cassian turns his head just enough to see who is hovering by the door. He expects it to be another potential, perhaps one running late (he briefly hopes it is one of the real instructors, but his luck wouldn’t be that good).

It’s Jyn, leaning against the doorjamb and watching him with an indifferent expression nearly as good as his own. But Cassian knows her well enough to recognize the slight tilt of her head and the gentle way her right fingertips drum against her belt as signs of contained amusement. She cocks an eyebrow when he turns to her, and he can almost hear her wry voice in his head – _having fun playing teacher, Captain?_   He gives her the barest grimace, pressing his lips together and rolling his eyes just enough for her to see it, then wipes the expression away before any of the candidates can pick it up.

How long has she been standing there, anyway? And where is – ah, there is Kay, clanking up the hallway behind her. “There are significantly more candidates in this class than the last,” Kay announces as he walks up and scans the room. “Last time we did this, there were only seven, eighty-six percent of which failed to achieve Operative status,” he tells Jyn, who shrugs one shoulder without looking away from the potentials. “This class looks even less promising,” Kay adds bluntly. Jyn throws him a sardonic grin over her shoulder, then they both stand silent in the doorway, Jyn leaning against the doorframe and Kay looming up behind her, staring over her head. Cassian makes a point of keeping his eyes on the candidates, until at last they all turn their attention form the interesting new additions and back to him.

“Ensign Adam Ledix,” Cassian breaks his silence at last, and a dark-skinned Human youth in the back of the room jumps at his name. “Can you tell me the name of your home planet?”

A brief pause, then Ledix pushes himself to his feet like a self-conscious kid in a school room. “I’m from Utapau…sir.” The candidate tacks on the honorific at the last second as he sweeps Cassian’s non-descript brown Alliance jacket with his eyes, looking for the missing rank badge. Cassian lets him look, simply stands at relaxed parade rest and watches Ledix fidget. Cassian stays still and let his mind drift while his face stays intent on the candidate, because years of experience have taught him how to be patient while others fretted. Utapau. Separatist planet during the Clone Wars. Heavily populated, but only a small percentage of that population is Human. Ledix shifts his weight again and shoots a not-very-covert look at Jyn, as if he’s hoping the Sergeant (Jyn hasn’t removed her badge) will step in and take charge. Jyn doesn’t move, and neither does Cassian. Kay is as still as a statue, only his glowing optics showing any sign of life.

Cassian goes back to his mental assesment of the candidate’s background. Utapau took a lot of damage in the Clone Wars. Ledix looks only just old enough to have been born at the time, but not old enough to remember the battle. Old enough, though, to grow up with the consequences. Idly Cassian wonders, as Ledix tentatively touches the back of his chair as if he’s asking permission to sit again, how smoothly the anti-Republic feeling on Utapau shifted to anti-Empire feeling. The Tarabba sector isn’t Cassian’s area of expertise, so he’s not sure, but if it went anything like the rest of the galaxy, the transition was not seamless. Was Ledix from a family that initially cheered the rise of the Empire, thinking that the Republic had at last been overthrown and made anew, only to be frustrated when things not only failed to change for their planets, but worsened instead? Or were his people among the staunch cynics, who considered the Empire just the Republic in different colored clothes, and held grudges against their “traitor” brethren who abandoned the Separatists to support it? Ledix is a Human from a predominately non-Human world, so if Cassian had to guess, he would go with ‘disillusioned supporters.’

But it is not his job to find out for sure. Not today, anyway. Today, his job is to attempt to impress at least one useful fact or skill on this collection of random beings in the hopes that if any of them make it to Operative status, they won’t get themselves killed. Or compromised. There aren’t many skillset that he can teach in a few hours, but he has at least one in mind that he thinks he can get them started on.

So he stands silently and watches Ledix get more and more antsy under his stare, until at last, with a little rebellious huff, the young man starts to sit again. Just before his weight hits the chair seat, Cassian snaps, “Do you know your parents’ names?”

“My mother is Teeana Ledix,” the ensign replies, shooting guiltily back to his feet. Teenaged Tripp Hebsley giggles again, though she quickly slaps her hand over her mouth to stop it. “She’s a holonet installer in Pau City,” Ledix adds, babbling to fill the uncomfortable silence. Cassian says nothing. Jyn pulls a small vibroblade from her sleeve and examines it with a bored expression, a tactic that makes her look intimidating to the potentials, but Cassian knows is a way to hide the fact that she’s struggling not to smile. He wonders if she’s laughing at the candidates or at him.

Next to Ledix, the older Selkath taps their long, clawed hands against their knees and stares at Jyn speculatively. Probably a fighter themselves, considering whether or not they could take Jyn down. Not likely, but Cassian makes a mental note to keep an eye on that candidate anyway.

Ledix is shifting his weight again, but stubbornly refusing to sit down. Cassian decides it’s time to bring the lesson home. “Do you know what time it is?”

Ledix blinks in surprise at this apparent subject change, and then glances at the chrono on the wall. “It’s zero-nine-eighteen. Sir.” This time the honorific comes just a little more firmly; Ledix, like Rue, has apparently decided to brazen this out.

“ _Ensign_ ,” Cassian barks, making the room jump as he shifts from “unknown authority” straight to “drill instructor” in a heartbeat. _“Did I ask you to tell me the time?”_

Jyn flips the knife in her hand and quirks the corner of her lips at him. _Big bad officer_ , her eyes laugh at him. _Scaring all the rookies_.

He narrows his eyes and raises his chin a fraction, as if offended at the mere suggestion. Her mouth curves a little more.

Meanwhile, Ledix straightens to stand at awkward attention, looking even more nervous. “Uh, yes, sir, you said – “

“Private Hebsley,” Cassian cuts him off. “Did I ask Ensign Ledix to tell me the time?”

Hebsley leaps to her feet (a move that swings her bright green and orange hair into her eyes, forcing her to pause and brush it back). “No, sir!” She says in a too-loud, over-eager voice. Cassian waits a beat to see if she’s going to stop there or shoot herself in the foot…and she does. “You asked him if he knew what time it was!” She smiles brightly, proud of herself for having found the trick. Cassian raises an eyebrow at her, though, and her smile drops into a frown as she backtracks through her own words. “Oh,” she deflates. “Oops.”

Jyn flips the vibroblade and catches it neatly, her head ducking slightly to allow her hair to swing across her cheeks. She’s definitely laughing at the private, although Cassian can feel her attention on him. Jyn’s already figured out the lesson, of course, but something in the speculative way she’s watching him puts Cassian’s guard up.

 _Whatever you’re plotting_ , he thinks at her, shooting her a covert glare as Hebsley joins in the gentle laughter of the group around her, _stop_.

Jyn arches both her eyebrows at him and tilts her head to the side, a picture of perfect, unaffected innocence.

“Tech Sergeant Rue,” Cassian turns back to his first victim, who slowly climbs to their feet. Behind them, both Hebsley and Ledix stay standing, although it’s obvious they are both wondering if they’ve been dismissed enough to sit back down again. “Explain to me what you, Ensign Ledix, and Private Heblsey have all done wrong.”

“The ensign and the private gave away more information than you were asking for,” Rue says slowly. “You asked yes or no questions, and they gave you…more.”

Hensley flushes, and Ledix’s eyes widen. Cassian can practically see the ensign mentally running his questions back through his head, and grimacing as he realizes what he was asked versus what he supplied.

Cassian turns his head away from Rue and makes a point of meeting the eyes of almost every other candidate, even the Gand through his breathing mask. “And _you,_ Tech Sergeant?”

“I…” Rue frowns at Cassian’s apparent sudden inattention, and elevates their voice slightly in an unconscious attempt to draw him back. “I didn’t answer any questions,” they say defiantly.

Cassian examines the Vuchellian triplets, ignoring Rue’s defiant outburst. One of them has a scar just above his right eye. Another has the barest edge of a scarlet and pink tattoo peeking out of his left sleeve. The third has a chipped front tooth. Once Cassian is reasonably sure he could tell all three of them apart at a glance, he turns back to Rue. “Sergeant Erso,” he calls. “Do you have any prior experience or information concerning Tech Sergeant Silas Rue before this class?”

“Never heard of them,” Jyn replies coolly, the vibroblade stilling in her hand. She stays where she is, though, leaning against the door and watching. “Never seen them.”

“Tell me everything you have learned about Tech Sergeant Rue since you walked into this room.” 

Both he and Jyn turn to look the candidate over appraisingly. Jyn lifts the vibroblade and points the hilt at Rue’s head. “Mygeeto hairstyle, lower class,” she says briskly. “Heavy scarring on the fingers, definitely not a bank employee. Dock worker at best. Escaped slave at worst.” Rue’s jaw drops open, and the rest of the room murmurs and nudges one another. But Jyn isn’t done yet; she flashes Cassian a sideways glance that lets him know she’s on to the point he really wants to make, and then she closes her eyes. “Obviously didn’t like it when you stood too close, but either is naturally non-confrontational, or trained to respect authority, so they resisted challenging you. Made it clear they didn’t know your rank or position within the rebellion, or in this training scenario. Speaks Basic, piss-poor Alderaanian, and probably nothing else or they would have tried that before groping through a weaker language they don’t know as well. Observant of others, not great at self-evaluation.” She pauses, and Cassian sees her make the decision a split second before she does it, her muscles tensing almost imperceptibly. She lunges forward a single step, her fist raised as if to strike – the tech sergeant flails backwards, almost into the lap of the equally surprised Aqualish sitting next to them. Rue scrambles to regain their footing, but Jyn is already lounging back at the doorframe, looking unimpressed. “No physical combat training,” she concludes, and then the vibroblade is back in her hand. _Bored of you_ , she projects to the room. _No threats to me here_.

The Selkath leans a little forward in their chair.

The class murmurs again, Jyn tilts the blade to better glare down the sharp edge, and Cassian bites the inside of his cheek hard to keep his thoughts on the task at hand.

“And you never even had to ask them a question,” Kay pipes up, his vocalizer sounding distinctly superior.

“Sit down, Rue,” Cassian orders, and glances over at Hebsley and Ledix, who are also still standing awkwardly in front of their chairs. “You, too.”

“I am your instructor for today,” he says when the room is still again. “Someone tell me why your fellow rebels gave me so much information without even knowing who I was.”

One of the triplets, the one with the chipped tooth, raises his hand. “Because you’re scary as hell,” he volunteers with a grin. Cassian can tell from the way his brother with the eye scar frowns and the brother with the tattoo rolls his eyes that Chipped Tooth Triplet is the joker of the trio. Cassian levels his stare at the joker, who gives a weak laugh and mutters, “yeah, like that,” as he sinks a little in his chair.

“And why, Lieutenant,” Cassian almost sighs as the candidates all collectively jump in surprise (have they forgotten they are all wearing their ranks prominently on their clothes, or has he just worked his way so thoroughly under their skin already? Neither is really a good sign), “why is that?”

Chipped Tooth’s mouth opens, then closes, and Cassian lets the room buzz for a few more seconds before he picks a new victim. “Gand,” he says sharply, and the short alien hops to his feet, his ammonia breather mask huffing slightly. “Have you earned your name yet?”

 _"No, Authority Who Commands Respect,”_ the Gand buzzes politely. _“This one has not yet done a deed of enough renown to – “_ he catches himself at the last second, ducking his head and reaching to fiddle in embarrassment with his mask for a second before straightening. _“No, Authority Who Commands Respect,”_ he says again.

“Well, at least one of them can learn,” Kay comments in what is probably meant as an aside to Jyn. Kay’s not great at adjusting his voicebox to organic emotional levels, however, so of course the whole room can hear it. The Gand looks vaguely irritated (so does every other candidate), but then Jyn flips her knife in her hand with a small smack that seems to echo around the room, and gives the Gand a sharp-eyed grin of approval. Gand reaches shyly to adjust his mask again, looking back at the floor and almost disappearing behind the much larger Human sitting in front of him. Jyn turns back to him, the grin easing into something softer. _I like that one._

Cassian clears his throat softly.

“Gand,” he says, letting the drill instructor bite drop from his voice and falling back into brisk professionalism. “Why did your colleagues find me intimidating?”

The Gand touches one hand lightly to the side of his mask for a moment, pondering, and then buzzes, “ _Authority Who Commands Respect did not give greetings or identification_. _Authority Who Commands Respect did not communicate with sound or face movements.”_ Gand hums a long, wordless note for a moment, a sound meant to indicate the embarrassment of a subordinate pointing out a flaw to a superior. _“Authority Who Commands Respect did not behave in a socially acceptable manner.”_

“The candidate thinks he was rude,” Kay translates. Jyn shoots him a glare so that Cassian doesn’t have to, but Kay only raises his hands and drops them again, his own approximation of a shrug. “There is a sixty-four percent chance that a significant number of the candidates cannot speak Gandin,” he says defensively. “I am helping.”

“Bearing,” Cassian says quickly, before anyone can pick a fight with Kay. “Lieutenant, define ‘bearing.’”

Chipped Tooth opens his mouth to answer, and without looking, Cassian points at the eye-scar brother instead. “Not you. Your older brother.” It’s a bit of a shot in the dark, guessing which is older and which is younger, but from the expression on the triplets’ faces, he’s nailed it. “Bearing, sir,” Eye Scar rises to his feet and mimics Cassian’s stance, hands behind his back and eyes straight ahead. “Projecting confidence and authority, sir. Looking…” he furrows his brows and mouths something at the wall behind Cassian (ah, one of those people, the kind who ‘say’ what they are thinking before they say it aloud. Not a great habit for a spy, either). “Looking like you know what you’re doing,” he finishes bluntly, then sits back down, not waiting for Cassian to leave him hanging awkwardly in the wind. Behind him, Gand also sits down, as if he’s just remembered he is still standing.

Cassian looks at Eye Scar and waits until the man reluctantly meets his eyes. “That is a close approximation of the Alliance Regulations’ definition of military bearing,” he says. “But bearing to an Intelligence Operative is somewhat different, Lieutenant.” He turns back to the room, pleased to see that at least they mostly all seem to be paying close attention to his words. Only two people aren’t focused wholly on Cassian. Jyn has her face turned away from him, her vibroblade put away again and her arms folded across her chest. She’s surveying the crowd instead, her hair hiding her eyes from Cassian’s view. It bothers him, oddly enough, that he can’t see what she’s thinking right now. What bothers him more, though, is that the second person not paying attention is the Selkath, still staring at Jyn like a lothal cat staring at a mouse hole.

“Self control,” he tells the candidates loudly, refusing to scowl. “For a field operative, mastery of one’s reactions is the baseline requirement for any successful operation. Lieutenant, front and center. Not you,” he says as Eye Scar starts to get up again. “Your younger brother,” he points at Tattoo Triplet without letting Eye Scar’s gaze drop. Another shot in the dark, and again it hits home; the three brothers exchange incredulous looks and then Tattoo gets to his feet and moves to stand where Cassian indicates. Tattoo turns out to be surprisingly tall, and when he moves closer, Cassian can see well-molded muscles beneath the Lieutenant’s slightly-too-tight jacket. From the corner of his eye, he sees Jyn sweep a long, assessing look down the back of Tattoo’s body as he walks past her.  He absolutely does not feel a brief flash of irrational jealousy, because that’s stupid, because she’s probably just sizing the candidate up and figuring out whether or not she can beat him in a fight.

And because he’s not jealous. That too.

“Lieutenant,” Cassian orders. “Maintain bearing.”

The candidate pulls himself into a decent semblance of at-attention. Not a career soldier, this one, but probably did well enough in initial training when he and his brothers joined the Alliance. He doesn’t even lock his knees, which would make him lightheaded and prone to passing out. Cassian lets him stand for a minute, and then turns to the room. “Gand,” he calls. “Front and center.”

The Gand leaps up eagerly and dashes forward, stopping a few feet away from Tattoo. “ _This one is present, Authority Who Commands Respect,_ ” he buzzes.

“Without touching him.” Cassian points to Tattoo, “break his bearing.”

Gand rushes forward, and skids to a halt just before he runs into the Lieutenant, who tenses but does not jump out of the way. Standing that close, the height difference between the tall lieutenant and the barely-a-meter-and-a-half Gand is comical, but the Gand, rather than look intimidated, cranes his head back to look up at the Human, and throws his arms out and forward. Among his kind, Cassian assumes this is an aggressive stance, an invitation to fight. To Human sensibilities, however, it looks like the short, masked alien is demanding a hug.

Tattoo looks down his nose at the Gand – and cracks up.

To the side, Jyn reaches up to scratch her nose, coincidentally covering her mouth from view. Her eyes crinkle slightly when Cassian looks at her, though. _Definitely like this one_. It almost gets him, but Cassian catches and stows the smile before it can fully form on his face.

Jyn lowers her chin, and he realizes a beat late that she will probably take that as a challenge.

“Well done, Gand,” Cassian says briskly, turning away from Jyn. “Now partner with - ” he scans the crowd, then nods to the Aqualish. “The major.”

He pairs them all off, until all the candidates are standing face to face with another, except for the Selkath. Jyn catches Cassian’s eyes again – _you want me to do it?_ – but he shakes his head. Not with the way the Selkath is still staring at Jyn hungrily. She’ll smack them down, of that he’s sure, but he would rather not have this lesson siderailed by a physical confrontation. He would just have to turn it into another lesson for them all, which will only distract from this one. Plus, he doesn’t think Cracken will be too pleased if he breaks one of the candidates when he only has them for a day.

Instead, he gestures to Kay, who stalks into the room and towers over the Selkath, glowering down with his optics set to their brightest yellow setting. The Selkath’s aggression wavers when they are confronted with Kay’s full intimidating height, though they seem to rally admirably quickly. Cassian nods absently to the Selkath without bothering to tell them whether they are meant to be maintaining their own bearing or attempting to break Kay’s. Jyn snorts softly when he smiles blandly and turns his back on the Selkath, and Cassian clears his throat again but otherwise does not reply.

“Stay with your current partner until you have both broken the other,” he instructs, and then leans back against the wall and folds his arms, letting his head tip back to rest against the bulkhead and watching them all through narrowed eyes. “Begin.”

Most of them, of course, break down into laughter the second they turn to catch their opponent’s eyes. Laughter becomes the primary way that the potentials chose to crack each other, some telling jokes, others pulling comical faces. At one point, one of the younger candidates produces the soft cloth ball they were playing with before and starts balancing it on the end of her nose, which breaks not only her own partner but _both_ candidates standing next to her. A couple of them try more direct attempts – Cassian sees Rue copy the move that Jyn pulled on them earlier, lunging forward abruptly into their opponent’s face, although Rue choses to snap their fingers rather than pretend to punch. It works on the first opponent, but Rue's second opponent is Eye Scar, who doesn’t flinch, and Rue fusses with their braids as they ponder this conundrum. To Cassian’s amusement, Rue’s next move is to lean close to Eye Scar and purse their lips as if they mean to kiss him…and Eye Scar doesn’t twitch, but he suddenly flushes bright red, and both his brothers’ mouths drop open in shock that quickly morphs to sly humor. Cassian’s eyes flick to Jyn, who is smiling faintly as she watches this interesting little drama.

Around the room, the candidates are engrossed in their personal contests, both with the opponent before them and their own self control. Already he can see marked improvement in several of them, although some mostly just look constipated rather than stoic. Still, he can already see that at least a few show real promise in this aspect of undercover work, and he makes a few mental notes to pass on to their regular instructors. It’s a fairly successful lesson, and Cassian barely has to do anything at all.

Jyn smirks at him when he glances her way again, and part of him keeps wondering if she will come and stand near him so they can actually speak, but to his disappointment, she stays by the door. Most of her attention seems to be focused on Kay and the Selkath, and Cassian supposes that’s fair. If the candidate loses it and takes a swipe at Kay, Jyn can diffuse that situation quicker and cleaner than Cassian could (without a blaster). To his exasperation, he notes that the Selkath has apparently decided to attempt to intimidate Kay into cracking. A poor choice, but it’s becoming clear to Cassian that aggression is the Selkath’s default state. The Selkath growls at Kay, their claws extended and their flat head bent as if they are preparing to ram forward with it. Cassian knows from experience that Selkath in general can headbutt hard enough to break Human bones, and those long claws are tipped in a potent venom that works on most carbon-based organics. None of which means a damn thing to K2SO, a two-meter-tall former Imperial security droid with a reinforced metal chassis. Cassian makes a few mental notes he will have to insert into the Selkath’s file, later.

Around Kay’s back, Jyn jerks her head at the Selkath and rolls her eyes. _Look at this fool_.

Cassian declines the offer, choosing instead to look at _her_ , because this is the first time he’s seen her all day that he’s had the chance to just…look at her. Her hair is getting long again, hanging further down in her face than normal. She’ll probably take a knife to it soon, unless he can convince her to go to that stylist who defected to the Alliance recently (not likely, but worth the attempt). He can tell from the way she holds herself that the huge bruise on her left shoulder – an injury from their last op – has finally stopped aching. The fine lines around her eyes are soft, and the relaxed comfort in her posture is real, not a front she’s putting on to hide her real emotions from the world.

She hasn’t entirely let her guard down, not with this many strangers in the room, and he knows that to the candidates, she still looks dangerous and mysterious. Still, to his eyes she looks at ease, as content as she ever is outside of their quarters or when they are alone on a ship headed to their next assignment. Calm. Contained.

Beautiful.

A loud burst of laughter as the Gand throws his arms out again to his next opponent – he seems to have cottoned on that this is an effective tactic, even if he doesn’t know why – and his opponent (Hebsley) responds by stepping forward and hugging him. Gand hums in loud surprise and good natured embarrassment, Hebsley practically lifts him off the ground with her enthusiastic embrace, and most of the rest of the room dissolves into laughter at their antics.

Cassian uses everyone’s distraction to school his face into the strictest expression he can muster, and pushes off the wall.

The laughter stops instantly, and everyone shuffles around to face him. “Line up,” he instructs.

It takes another few minutes for the candidates to organize themselves – Cassian has to order the Selkath to stop glowering and snarling at the wholly impassive Kay before they turn around and join the line.

“Well done,” Kay says in a loud, clear voice that is probably intended to be encouraging rather than incredibly patronizing. “I was very frightened.” Jyn flicks a finger against Kay’s chassis, ringing the metal quietly, and Kay turns back to look at her. “I am helping,” he repeats, aggrieved. "Positive reinforcement is a valid instructional technique."

Cassian winces internally. _He means well, really he does_.

He waits until the candidates are standing silently in line, watching him expectantly. He steps up to the first candidate in the line – Hebsley, it turns out – and meets her eye. She’s watching him warily, but there’s a faint smile already on her face, like she’s just waiting for the punchline to some joke.

“Maintain bearing,” he orders, and he even waits until she snaps to attention, trying her best to give him a thousand yard stare. Cassian steps close and then hunkers down until his face is level with her face, and stares at her.

It takes less than ten seconds for her to crack, though to her credit, the kid tries her best to force the smile back down, even holds her breath before the pressure gets to be too much and she snorts loudly, her hand slapping over her mouth again in a vain attempt to hide her face. Cassian steps back and gives her a moment to compose herself, and then moves on to the next in line, Rue. This time he doesn’t wait for the tech sergeant to brace themself, Cassian just lifts his hand and snaps his fingers loudly right in front of Rue’s nose. The candidate reels backwards, then catches themself and curses, shaking their head hard enough for their braids to swing out and nearly hit Cassian, who pretends not to notice.

Cassian moves down the line. Gant keeps his face straight ahead, which means his breather mask is level with Cassian’s sternum. Cassian stands still for a second, and then slowly, so slowly that at first the Gand doesn’t even seem to notice, Cassian bends his knees and sinks down. It’s a bit of a burn on his thighs and lower back, but he keeps his face utterly straight and breathes slow and careful through his nose. Around him, a few of the other candidates make strangled sounds, fighting not to laugh as Cassian drops further on his heels. By the time his chin is level with Gand’s eyes, the candidate is shaking with the effort not to laugh. Cassian sinks a little lower, until finally, they are eye to eye. Through the slightly fogged face plate of Gand’s mask, he can see the candidate’s dark eyes flickering rapidly as he struggles to control himself.

Cassian sinks a little bit lower, just a few centimeters down on his heels, his face still serious as the grave, and that’s it. Both the Gand and several of the other candidates burst into various forms of laughter. Instantly Cassian stands back up and steps back, moving on to the next. Eye Scar stares grimly at the wall behind Cassian, his eyes unfocused, clearly determined to avoid laughing by simply not looking at anything that might catch him of guard. Cassian considers, then leans close to Eye Scar’s ear. “Rue has been watching you,” he whispers.

Eye Scar turns bright red all over again, and then gives a short grunt of irritation low in his throat, shooting a quick look to the side, where Tech Sergeant Rue is indeed watching, relaxed now that their turn on the crucible is over. Rue tilts their head curiously, and Eye Scar looks back at Cassian, an oddly familiar helpless look in his eyes. Cassian sympathizes. (To the side, Jyn is murmuring something to Kay that Cassian can’t quite hear, probably something irrelevant to what he’s doing, but a part of him is straining to pick out the words in her voice anyway.)

On down the line he moves, picking them apart one at a time. The longest to last is, surprisingly, Ledix, who apparently has discovered the trick of disassociating, sending his mind somewhere else until he is only nominally aware of what is happening right in front of him. Cassian takes advantage of that, moving slowly and carefully so as not to drag Ledix’s attention back to the present, and raises his hand until his fingertip is just a few centimeters from the candidate’s ear. Then he moves it a little closer, never quite touching. It takes Ledix about fifteen seconds to register the slight tickle in his ear, but once he’s noticed it, he can’t stop focusing on it, making it impossible for him to drift back into whatever pleasant space he built for himself. Three seconds later, he breaks, shaking his head and reaching to rub at his ear as he looks at Cassian reproachfully.

When he reaches the end of the line, every candidate watching him with a mix of sheepishness and awe, Cassian moves back to the front of the line and plants himself back into the parade rest position. “Without touching me,” he says, glancing at Hebsley and nodding to let her know she should go first, and then permits himself a small, cold smile as he throws down the gauntlet. “Break my bearing.”

Then he turns his eyes to the far wall and shuts himself off.

Hebsley almost leaps across the distance to get in his face (or as close to it as she can – Cassian has about twenty centimeters on her), and starts making ridiculous faces, like a child at a festival. Tech Sergeant Rue lets her play for almost three full minutes before tapping her shoulder, and Hebsley sighs in disappointment and shuffles out of the way. Rue doesn’t make faces, but their stare is no more effective. One by one, the candidates have their try at him, each taking several minutes, trying a variation of methods. Some try whatever they found worked on their partners earlier, some try to return his own methods back on him.  He can hear whispers as they huddle into small groups and confer on the best methods. Some of them even get back in line and have another go, certain they’ve figured out the trick. They whisper nonsense in his ears, jokes, things that would be embarrassing if they had even a modicum of truth to them (but none of these strangers know anything about him, and he’s given them nothing throughout this session) so their attempts to fluster or rile him fall empty and flat. Ledix even attempts to hold his hand near Cassian’s ear in mimic of Cassian's trick, scowling when Cassian fails to even blink.

Cassian watches them come and go, moving in close and then away again, through the lens of a mental sniper’s scope. He imagines it so clearly that they actually start to shrink in his vision, distant faces and babbling voices, a crowd in the market below his sniper’s perch, no more relevant to him than birdsong or distant traffic. It would be dangerous to pull this trick in a room full of strangers, were he alone. But this is why he called Kay – and part of why he’s so happy Jyn came, too – nobody is going to harm him with Kay and Jyn nearby. So Cassian lets his body settle into a comfortable stance and perches in his own head, scanning through his scope and waiting.

Roughly half an hour later, the frustrated candidates appear to collectively give up. Even the Selkath, who stood in front of him for five minutes just growling in one long, continuous rumble, sits down in a chair with an air of disgust. That was probably an acceptable amount of time for a lesson, Cassian thinks with disinterest. He can snap back into himself and let them go for the day, with some admonishment to practice their bearing and to pay attention to questions before they answered them. Before he can pull himself down from his mental sniper’s nest, however, something moves in the corner of his vision, and then Jyn is there.

She tilts back her head, crosses her arms (she’s so close that her forearms nearly brush his chest, and he can feel the warmth of her skin just barely through his shirt), and quirks the corner of her lips at him again. _My turn_.

Cassian’s focus narrows down to her face, as if his scope has zoomed in on her – that's the disadvantage of this particular mental retreat, of course, because for all that a sniper might wait hours in a patient stillness, he must be prepped to fire the moment whatever he’s been waiting for walks into his view.

He hasn’t spoken with Jyn all day.

She doesn’t speak now, but she sees him lock on her, and her knowing expression grows even more pronounced. _Gotcha_.

“This should be interesting,” Kay comments from behind Jyn. Then, presumably to a candidate, he adds flatly, “That was a lie. It will actually be very boring.”

No, Cassian thinks as he suddenly becomes acutely aware of his own heartbeat inside his chest – still slow and steady, but he’s so _aware_ of it – Jyn is a lot of things, but _boring_ has never been one of them.

Jyn’s smirk is decidedly smug now as she stares him down.

A little too smug, actually, so Cassian looks her right in the eye and winks. Or rather, he attempts to wink, it’s unfortunately not a skill he ever quite mastered, so it’s more of a slow blink than anything. The first time he had done it to Jyn, she almost choked on her drink, and then struggled not to laugh for several minutes afterwards. He can see her remember that moment, too, as her eyes widen and her lips press tightly together to stop herself from breaking into laughter now. No, that won’t do, he wants her to laugh, crack her before she cracks him, so he lets his eyebrow twitch up, just a fraction, just enough so that only she can see, and does it again. _Remember that_ , he asks her silently, _remember how pink your face got?_

Her cheeks are faintly pink now, and she mimics the eyebrow back at him. _I remember_. And then she deliberately looks down at his mouth, and then back up at him challengingly. Softly, she parts her lips, and tilts her face up towards him. _Remember how I couldn’t even stop laughing when you kissed me, after?_

Well…yes. As a matter of fact, he does.

Cassian jerks his gaze from her mouth to her eyes again, narrowing his own slightly in warning. _Don’t start that with me._

There is laughter in her eyes now, though her mouth is still soft and inviting, and the humor mixes with the challenge. _Watch me_. She taps the fingers of her right hand against her upper arm, letting each finger hit individually so he can hear them all – one, two, three, four, this is clearly supposed to mean something to him but he doesn’t get it yet. And then she does it again, but this time only taps three – five, six, seven _, mierde_ , he knows what she’s invoking. That mission, the one where he had winked at her and she had laughed so breathlessly against his mouth and slipped her hands inside his shirt and then whispered that they had seven hours until technically they had to report the results of the operation to Command, seven hours of stolen time and she had pulled him back to the ship –

Cassian swallows as Jyn taps her fingers on her arm again, four and three, and he catches himself just before he can clench his jaw reflexively. He remembers that mission with exquisite clarity, but now is definitely not a good time to be thinking about it. Vaguely, he’s aware of the candidates shuffling and muttering to each other behind Jyn, confused and restless. From their point of view, neither Jyn nor Cassian have moved at all, save for a couple random finger taps. Jyn's back is to them, as well, which means she can get away with more exaggerated expressions, but Cassian's face is mostly visible to the room. He keeps his chin tucked slightly as he looks down at her, which helps hide any micro reactions from the candidates, too. So far, he's decently sure, they haven't picked up any of the small reactions Jyn is wringing from him.

Of course, if he keeps remembering that particular seven hours, they’re going to see a hell of a reaction from him whether he changes his expression or not. Cassian slams the lid on that admittedly pleasant series of memories and tries to force himself back to his mental sniper’s perch, but Jyn’s too close to ignore, too far to give him a focus point. If her folded arms were actually touching him, he could hone in on the contact and block out the rest, use her as a physical anchor even as she tries to send him mentally spinning. Unfortunately, she knows how to anchor off a contact point too, and she’s denying him that. He has to try and focus on the bottoms of his feet against the floor, and that is incredibly ineffective when Jyn is so close to his body. He leans just a little forward anyway, in case she’s sloppy enough and doesn’t see him coming, but no luck. She leans back at the same tiny angle, and they don’t touch. Her smirk turns a little wry – _nice try, Captain_ – then goes back to being insufferably smug.

Cassian breathes in slowly through his nose and forces his lungs to expand and contract without heaving a sigh. _You haven’t won yet,_ he thinks, staring her down. _Don’t get cocky_.

One of the candidates coughs, and the sound echoes a little in the mostly quiet room.

Cassian knows the candidates are all sitting far enough away that they can’t track the exact movements of his eyes. As long as he doesn’t move his head or blink his eyes too rapidly, they won’t see any change in his face, no matter where he looks. So Cassian takes a minor risk: he starts at Jyn’s face, catching her eyes again and making sure she can see that he’s up to something, and then lets his gaze drift lower, down the column of her throat, to her collarbone just visible at the edge of her shirt, then, even slower, down to her chest. Her crossed arms tighten around her ribs imperceptibly, and the pink flush of her skin gets just a little more pronounced. She grimaces and closes her eyes briefly, breathing slow and methodical until her skin tone evens out. Cassian waits, patient again now that he has the upper hand, ready when she opens her eyes again.

He licks his lips. A quick, tiny movement, probably looks like an absent-minded fidget to the candidates, but Jyn knows he trained himself out of that particular physical tic years ago, knows that he’s doing it deliberately, and her eyes widen. Then they narrow as she scowls at him – _you_ _bastard,_ he can practically hear her grumble as she looks from his mouth to his eyes, her cheeks turning pink again. He is probably in for some kind of retribution, he knows it, but looking at the faint flush that she is clearly struggling to hide and the silent laughter still glittering in her eyes, Cassian knows it will be worth it. It’s always worth it, he thinks suddenly.

Jyn’s expression softens, probably in response to him; for the first time all day, he’s not entirely in control of his face, but the restless muttering of the candidates hasn’t altered at all, so he feels safe enough to let it stay as it is. Whatever he’s showing her right now, only she seems to see it. She can read him like no one else has in years, probably because no one else in years has ever bothered to learn his every tell, to know every line and plane of his face and body just because she _wants_ to know.

Cassian takes another long, slow breath, and this time when she meets his eyes, he thinks _I am so damn glad that you are here with me_ , and sees in her smile an answering, _so am I._

Alright, that’s enough. Cassian nods his head to her as if she has merely been helpful in a professional demonstration, _thank you, well done_ , and almost smiles when she calmly returns the gesture and steps to the side already looking bored with the proceedings.

The candidates give them both various puzzled expressions. “Wait, did she give up?” Hebsley bursts out, messy orange and green hair swinging down into her face as she leans forward earnestly.

“No,” Cassian tells her evenly.

Ledix is the next to venture into the silence. “So, uh…who won?”

“They have reached a draw,” Kay announces as if this should be completely obvious. “The demonstration is over.”

“Self control,” Cassian says loudly over the muttering of the crowd. “And attention to specifics. You are all dismissed. Your regular classes will resume tomorrow.”

He walks out of the room without further comment, Jyn falling into step with him and Kay clumping behind. As soon as the door slides shut behind them, Kay says, “You do not require my presence further,” and without waiting for a reply, turns down the corridor towards the hangar bay.

“Thanks, Kay,” Cassian calls sincerely after him. He would not have been nearly as comfortable in that room without the solid reassuring presence of his friend.

Through the door, Hebsley’s high, clear voice suddenly says, “Wait – did he ever actually tell us his rank?”

Jyn’s smirk is back on her face as she looks up at him, one eyebrow raised. No longer in the spotlight in front of two dozen potential spies, Cassian lifts his own right back.

“Forget his karking rank,” one of the triplets laughs loudly, “did that _pendejo_ ever actually tell us his _name?_ ”

Jyn darts forward and slips her hand inside his jacket, and Cassian’s breath catches as her fingers skim over his ribs, but then she snatches his rank badge from the inside pocket where he’s tucked it, and she steps lightly back. Teasingly, she holds the badge up between them with the clear intent to yank it out of reach should he try to grab it -  but he can see the faintest pink still in her skin, and he is tired of self control. So Cassian turns towards the other end of the hallway, in the direction of the Intel berthing, and strides away purposefully. It only takes Jyn a couple steps to catch up, still clutching his rank badge in her hand but looking a little crestfallen. Cassian lets her flick him a guilty look as she holds out the rank badge again, this time as casually as if she were just passing him a datapad.

He grabs the badge, but wraps his fingers around her hand into the bargain, trapping her fingers against the thin metal, and pulls her swiftly through a nearby door, into another briefing room. She stumbles in surprise but catches herself as the door slides closed behind them, leaving them in the dim lighting of the unused room. Cassian steps into her space before she can fully recover, however, and locks the door behind her. Distantly, they can hear the thunder of several feet, the candidates all filtering out of the training room and off to wherever they spent their days when not being evaluated. Cassian pins Jyn’s hand, still curled around his rank badge, to his chest and presses his forehead to hers.

Jyn laughs softly, more of a hum low in her throat, and the sound smooths down his spine like a caress. She curls her free hand around his belt and tugs him closer until he is pressed against her, pinning her between his body and the door. Cassian closes his eyes and lets her scrape her fingertips up his side and then around his neck, and sighs as the tension of performing before so many strangers, the tension of knowing their future survival might well rest in his hands, leeches out of him at her touch.

When he opens his eyes again, she’s looking at him like she had in the training room, her eyes warm and her lips only just parted, soft and inviting. He blinks at the rush of heat and want that hits him like a gravcar, and then bursts out laughing as he realizes that she finally got the reaction she wanted out of him. The self-satisfied look rolls back onto her face as he chuckles. Finally he looks back up at her and shakes his head – _you win, you win_ \- letting go of her hand and shoving his rank badge back in his pocket carelessly.

Jyn’s smile is still smug, but it’s sweet now, too, a particular kind of gentleness she reserves for him alone. She glances down, almost shy in this moment of quiet happiness, then looks back up at him with clear eyes. _I know_ , her smile tells him, and then both her hands tighten on the back of his neck, and Jyn pulls him down at last.

**Author's Note:**

> [Wudei Wadai](http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Wudei_Wadai) is an Aqualish Alliance Intelligence operative who was at least around during the Battle of Endor and shortly thereafter. I am going to go ahead and assume he was there before then, too. [Bren Derlin](http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Bren_Derlin) was also a known member of Intel, although by the time the Battle of Hoth rolled around, he was promoted to Major (he’s the mustached dude who tells Leia on Hoth that they have to seal the base, leaving Luke and Han outside). He also apparently went on a big mission shortly after Yavin that involved slicers and Skywalker and bounty hunters and whatnot. I don’t really know anything about that aside from wookiepedia, but we’ll claim that in the course of that mission, the slicer gave him a lot of good data that Cracken now wants to test out. So the next available officer is on the hook for training. Much to Cassian’s irritation.
> 
> All the [planets](http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Vuchelle) (like Vuchelle, which was on the same trade route as Fest and so maybe shared some common cultural traits, like language) and [species](http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Gand/Legends) (like the Gand, who had to earn their individual names) mentioned have fun and [interesting](http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Utapau) histories within the [SW universe](http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Mygeeto), if you’re [interested.](http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Selkath/Legends) I like to think that knowing some of this will make the details of this little story much richer so there are little easter eggs and all sorts of personal speculations in here, but it is, of course, not at all required to get the heart of the story. 
> 
> I mentioned Kay’s “reinforced metal chassis” because I read a comment on tumblr about the “continuity error” in the movie between the KX droid Jyn destroyed with a single shot and K2SO taking multiple shots to the body before going dark. However, Kay is not a factory-standard KX straight off the shelf. He is friends with a talented droid tech who also happens to have a paranoia streak a parsec wide. I firmly believe that Cassian would have not only expanded Kay’s coding as much as possible, but also supplied him with upgraded materials and things like body armor, secondary wiring systems, and of course, back-up drives. The Imperials might consider their KX droids disposable, but Cassian Andor does not.


End file.
